I Knew Him Well
by The Knees of Bees
Summary: Darcy, an Irish Immigrant, travels America in a journey of survival. When she is attacked and robbed of something very dear to her, she reluctantly joins with two Bounty Hunters to get back what's hers and get a little revenge. And as much as she'd like to deny it, she starts feeling rather comfortable around a certain German doctor. Schultz/OC
1. Chapter 1

_Wowowow do I love Django Unchained (I can't wait to get the DVD). I haven't been this actively obsessed with a movie in a long time! And wow was Christoph Waltz extremely handsome in this movie. Alright, I'll stop gushing now. _

_**BUT**__ I will warn you now, I'm a slow writer mostly due to the fact I don't own a computer anymore. My trips to the library will have to do until I can get a laptop of my own. So I might not update very often. I'm hoping to get a chapter out at least once every two weeks but we'll have to see._

_I do not own any of the characters except for Darcy and any minor characters not created by Quentin Tarantino. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes only._

_I hope you enjoy, and maybe leave a review? It defiantly helps me._

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Prologue/Chapter 1

It was a late fall, maybe early winter morning as two men road across a wide open field, the crunching of first snow being the only sound under their horse's hooves. Small visible puffs of cold breath came from both men and Fritz let out a snort, shaking fresh snow from his mane. The white man with the salt and pepper flecked beard, who was riding said horse, gently patted Fritz as he chugged on. His dapper choice of clothing, a gray heavy coat over a slightly lighter gray suit, protected him from the cold that would soon grow worse as winter came closer. Ahead of him, on his own horse named Tony, sat a young black man. His back was straight as his rode along, showing his newly found pride. His raw hide jacket wasn't as fancy looking as the other male's, but it did the job just as fine. The two rode mostly in a comfortable silence since they had already discussed the plans of the day earlier.

It was the black fellow, Django, who broke the silence as he stopped his horse in mid stride.

"You see that?" Asked Dr. King Shchultz's newly appointed partner, his thick southerner accent causing the bearded man to look ahead of them, squinting slightly against the morning sun.

A couple yards ahead of the two was something laying in the snow, a person by the looks of it. Shchultz gave a quiet curious grunt.

"Good eye, my boy. Shall we go see? Ah- but do remember to be cautious when we get closer. Its very possibly its some kind of hoax." His way of speaking was intelligent but held a sort of odd accent as he pronounced each word.

"Whats'a hoax?" Django asked from over his shoulder before quickly turning his gaze back in front of them, looking for- whatever a hoax was.

"A hoax is- ah, it is a fabricated falsehood, or rather a trick." King explained, ushering Fritz to catch up with Tony so the two of them were riding more side by side.

"Like a trap," Django muttered in response, causing King to nod proudly.

"Yes exactly. A trap. I've seen it before, a person will be out in the middle of nowhere and will pretend to be helpless to trick poor fools into helping them. Normally they have a gang of some sort hiding near by, ready to ambush their victims to kill and take everything of value."

Django removed his gun from its holster as they got closer, maybe eight feet or so, and held it at his side. He rode ahead of Shchultz so to get a closer look at the body, which was laying face down in the snow. He took a good scan of the area around them before looking at the doctor, who nodded, and then climbed down from his horse. He kept his gun out as he crept closer to the body. At first it appeared still, but as he got close enough, he could see the faint rise and fall of the person's back. They were breathing at least.

"Don't think this one is pretendin'," Django spoke up loud enough for King to hear as he came up on the other side.

"Well, flip the poor man over," King said, rolling his finger in a circle motion.

Django bent down with one knee in the snow and pushed the body over. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. "Ain't no man neither," he whispered, more so to himself, which caused King to lean towards him.

"Pardon?"

King's question was left unanswered in the air, as he didn't need one. He looked down from his high position on his horse at the soft, round face of a woman. There were red splotches on her cheeks, nose, and forehead from being face down in the snow for who knows how long. Her red hair was done up in a tight bun except for stray curling strands that had come loose and were plastered to her face and neck. It was surprising she wasn't suffering from frost bite, that they could see at least. Her light mustard colored button-up was wet and clung to her body, one of the suspender straps had come loose and hung uselessly at the hip of her brown trousers. King also noticed that except for one damp sock, she was bare foot, the toes of her uncovered foot already started to turn a shade of blue.

The doctor cleared his throat. "We should get her warmed up before the poor girl freezes to death, don't you think?"

Django nodded in agreement as he lifted the woman's body up in his arms. She was a little heavier than he expected. King waved him over, and with a bit of effort, the Ex-slave marched over to his horse. King pulled out a wool blanket for his partner to wrap her up in and once she was tightly bundled up, she was placed just in front of where Django sat on his saddle. He climbed back up on his horse, and with a slightly quicker pace than before, the two men rode on to find a place to set camp back up.

Their travels would have to wait another day or two, which didn't seem to bother either of them since the mystery woman would need to be set next to a fire to warm up before she died of Hypothermia. They were too far away to take her to a town, which worried Dr. Shchultz.

After all, It would be unfortunate for the girl to die in their hands.


	2. Chapter 2

_I have been looking at Irish dialect and slang a lot lately, trying so hard to maybe make her a little convincing but I'm pretty sure I just butchered it. Sorry about that. If it just seems awful, I'll cut back on it._

_Review maybe?_

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Chapter 2

_"Didn' you hear me the first time, ya' damn Potato Head?" _

_A couple of towns people turned at the sound of the local store keeper's grainy voice as it echoed down the street. A young man was thrown out the door and stumbled on his feet, backwards, down the steps before tripping and landing on his backside in the dirt. His hat nearly tipped off the back of his head but he quickly smashed it back down, making his glaring eyes barely visible as they watched the much older man walk out and cross his arms across his chest. The store keeper's slightly unkempt mustache twitched as he sneered down at the boy before he turned and pointed at the large sign hanging in the window._

_His large finger jabbed at each painted word through the glass as he spoke, "Irish. Need. Not. Apply. Or can you not read neither?" _

_"That's not fair! I can work just as hard as any other fella that walks in there!" The kid growled back with his accent thick, tucking a stray strand of orange hair that peeked out from under his hat behind his ear. _

_"I don't wanna hear any of your bullshit, Son. And I ain't havin' no lazy-ass Irish paddy wokin' in my shop. Go waste someone else's time." The shop keeper gave a rather humorless chuckle, and as if that was the finality of the argument, turned away and walked back inside the store. The light sound of the bell above the door chimed innocently as the boy got back to his feet. He dusted off his dirty backside while grumbling all kinds of colorful words under his breath. His hazel eyes caught the few people still lingering around, just staring at the discrimination he was put through in public, and scowled. _

_"What'r you lot looking' at?" He hissed in a rather embarrassing high-pitched voice. _

_The small crowd dispersed once they realized the exciting part was over and the boy was left to stew in his own embarrassment. One woman even scoffed, as if personally insulted, and continued on her way._

_Straightening his hat, the Irish male made his way to the only bar in town. Of course, he was flashed with nasty looks as he walked in. Was his nationality really so noticeable? He wasn't the only pale and freckled skinned person in town, right? Most of his red hair was covered by his hat. Maybe word just spreads fast in towns like this. _

_He was silently thankful he was at least able to sit and have a drink unlike those poor black bastards he saw being marched through town, all chained together in a straight line like animals. The thought tugged the corner of his lip into a disgusted scowl. He wasn't a stranger to being treated like a slave, but he did get away with more if he just hid more of his skin and stayed quiet. It was sad. _

_"Can I get a drink?" He sighed, catching the attention of the bartender. The man stared down at him for a moment before raising an eyebrow. _

_"Are you going to pay for it?"_

_Again with this shit?_

_"I wouldn't be asking for it if I couldn't pay."_

_The bartender held up his hands at the venom that was spit back at him. "Just checkin'." _

_After attempting to enjoy his drink in peace, and ignoring the suggestive eyes of a few prostitutes, the kid decided he had enough of this racist little shithole of a town. Though he was sure it wasn't going to be much better anywhere else, maybe he could pick up work somewhere. As his eyes traveled away from the girls, they met with a pair of dark brown eyes that were staring right back at him. How long had this fella been looking at him? He raised his eyebrow at the man, as if to ask; do you need something? The guy grinned at him before turning back to his full table. _

_The Irish male left a couple of coins on the counter before walking out, there was really no need to feed a growing stereotype, and found his way back to his horse that patiently waited for him in the corral behind the building. _

_"Let's get the feck out of here, Liam," the boy grumbled to the horse who neighed softy in response as he climbed up onto the saddle. _

_It was a good hour or so later when it started to get dark. He cursed himself quietly for not stopping sooner and setting up camp and a fire. It was going to be hard looking for any dry wood with the light snow fall that started up. Annoyed, he dusted away the snow that had started to collect on the brim of his hat and was about to hop down off his horse when he heard a twig snap somewhere behind him._

_And then another. _

_Eyes widening in the ever growing dark, he glanced over his shoulder to see a figure on top of a horse of their own. Panic quickly set in when he realized this person had been following him. He wasn't on any well known path, in fact he had detoured into the woods some in hopes of the trees catching most of the snow while he slept. _

_"Are you gonna show yourself?" He called out, turning Liam to face towards the stranger. _

_"Took you a while to notice me." It was the man from the bar, the one who had stared and grinned at him. The sight of him again sent chills up his spine. _

_"You be needing something?" He quietly cursed himself for letting his nervousness show in his voice as he cleared his throat. Liam began pacing back and forth as if sensing his uneasiness. _

_"Sure do. How about you get off your horse there and walk this way." _

_The trees swayed in a sudden rush of wind, and in the slight movement, the moon made the gun in the stranger's hand gleam. Perspiration dotted the back of his neck as his eyes became glued to that gun. _

_"Don't think about doing anything stupid, Spudfucker." The stranger growled, his grin dropping when the Irish kid sat frozen on top of his horse. _

_With a sudden jerk of the reins, Liam bolted in the opposite direction. He could hear the man behind him shout after him and the loud crack of a gun as a bullet flew by his ear. The guy was trying to shoot him! The frightening sound of the gun firing off a second shot pushed the horse to run faster. This one whizzed past his arm, slicing through his shirt sleeve and taking a small chunk of his arm with it. He let out a hiss, nearly loosing his balance as they cleared out of the woods into a large field opening. _

_By now the sound of hooves against earth multiplied as more riders joined in chasing after him. His breath hitched in the back of his throat as he dared to look over his shoulder. Another bullet flew at him, catching him in the side, and caused him to tumble from the saddle. Liam continued running off without him, fueled by fear no doubt. The kid hit the ground and rolled a couple of feet. He grabbed at the side of his ribs, gently feeling around for the entrance wound. There was a wet patch in the front too, telling him the bullet went right through. _

_The thunderous pounding of horses circled around him as the group finally caught up. Past them, he could see Liam had stopped and raised up on his back legs, letting out a loud whinny before slowly making his way back. He wanted to yell at the horse to keep away, afraid this group might try to shoot him down too. One of the members of the group moved away from the circle they made around him and rode over to Liam, grabbing at his reins. Liam protested, jerking his head away a couple of times and nipped at the riders horse before calming down. _

_"Ooh, got something shiny in here?" The man asked, purposely loud enough for him to hear. His hand disappeared into the kid's saddlebag and pulled out a long piece of polished metal. He wanted to scream at the guy to keep his dirty hands off his things, but he bit down on his lip instead. _

_"The hell is it?" One of the other members of the group asked._

_"Donno, some kind of flute?" _

_"It's a Tin Whistle, you eejit." The kid growled from his spot on the cold ground. _

_"What was that, boy?" The first guy barked down at him. He didn't answer but continued to watch the American dig through his bag. _

_This made the man sneer as he climbed down from his horse, gun still in hand, and approached the kid. "I asked you a question."_

_The kid turned his eyes up to see the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes. Any air left in him became stuck in his lungs as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. _

_"Stand up." _

_Slowly, he began to rise up onto his feet, the wound in his side stung like hell fire but the gun pointed at his face helped him ignore the pain. He watched as the man's eyes raked over every inch of him with disgust before his eyes stopped just above his head. A grin pulled its way across his face, exposing his teeth. _

_"Give me your hat." _

_The kid's eyebrows pushed together in confusion for a moment but then he heard the not-so-subtle click of the gun. His ripped the hat from his head and bitterly tossed it to the asshole who continued to grin at him. The man caught it and placed it on top of his head. _

_"What do you think, boys?" He grinned, causing the rest of his group to laugh. _

_"Hmm, how about your shoes. Those look nice."_

_With a animalistic flash of his teeth, he reluctantly kicked off his shoes. One of his socks got tugged off in the process and the snow instantly nipped at his toes. This asshole better not get close enough for him to sock in the mouth. Gun or no gun. _

_"Now your shirt." _

_Whatever color was left drained from the boy's face as he stood there dumbfounded. Was he really going to make him strip all the way down to his underwear? Take his clothes? What, just to humiliate him?_

_"Shirt. Now. And get started on them trousers while your at it." He gave his gun a small wave for emphasis. "I think they'll look just dandy on me." _

_Much slower than before, he started to undo his shirt. The red pair of long johns becoming visible as the first few buttons came undone. They were all laughing at him as he was slowly forced to hand over the cloths on his back. The bastards. The guy with the gun suddenly stopped, his mouth slamming closed like a trap when he noticed something. Something not naturally present on a man._

_"Hold on a fuckin' minute." He breathed as he got closer and grabbed a hold of the kid's arm and stopped him from pulling at the next button. He stared hard at the kid's chest before slowly looking back up at his face. The small curve of his chest was perfectly concealed under three layers of clothing, but without the shirt, it was just slightly noticeable. His eyes slowly trailed back up. Suddenly this man's jaw was too round, skin too soft looking, hazel eyes too large and knowing. _

_"You're a woman."_

_"Right you are." She spat, reeling her head back before slamming it hard against his nose. He stumbled back a step or two and grabbed at his now bleeding nose. _

_"Fuckin' bitch!" He howled, stomping back towards the outed female and swung his hand back, smacking her hard in the side of the head with the butt of his gun. There was a sick crack sound as the gun met her head, her bare feet barely able to keep her up as she nearly fell on her ass. She would have hit the dirt just then if it hand't been the large hand grabbing up a handful of her shirt. Her head lolled back uselessly as her knees shook._

_"Playing with fire, darling. You don't know who you're messing with.." His head tilted sightly as he noticed something silver flash just under the second undone button of her shirt. Reaching in, he pulled the chain taut from her neck, the pendent held tightly in his fist. With a hard jerk the chain snapped and he gave her a hard shove, causing her to fall hard into the snow face first._

_"Did'ja just say he's a woman?" One of the group members asked in disbelief. _

_Their voices started to fade in and out as she attempted to push up off the ground. Her arms shook as her vision blurred. A warm, sticky trail of liquid dripped from her hairline and down the side of her jaw, some of it pooling in her ear. She tried blinking a few times but it didn't help any as she caught the blurry sight of a pair of boots walking up next to her. The guy bent down and violently shoved her hat back onto her head, forcing her face back against the ground. She felt cold mud smear across her cheek. _

_She could hear one of them saying something, but the first half of it was too muffled for her to put together. "...or can we take her with?" or at least that's what she thought they said. After a short pause the guy, by now she figured he was the leader, laughed. _

_"Nah, she'll bleed out eventually, or the cold will get her. Besides, we don't want to bring her with."_

_"What, why? We get free ass!" One shouted from her left, his horse snorting a moment after. _

_"Are you kidding? What if she brought over some diseases? I heard from some other Irish Paddy that a bunch of 'em were dying off where she came from."_

_"Well she is a Spudfucker after all, who knows what kind of shit they carry. I don't want my wang fallin' off." _

_The group laughed at that as the one that spoke gave out a confused "what?" as if he didn't catch on to the joke. _

_"Lets just take her horse and be on with it. I'm freezing my balls off here."_

_Her eyes had closed at this point. Her whole head throbbed the longer she tried to keep them open and she could slowly feel herself start to slip away. She wanted to jump up and retrieve the knife that she kept in her satchel. Why the hell had she forgotten to strap it back onto her belt? She was being careless and this is what it got her. Her heart ached at the bare space where her necklace used to hang, the ghost feeling of it practically burning her skin with dread._

_"Bobby, stop fartin' around! Lets go." One of them shouted over to the man that held Liam as he continued digging his disgusting hands through her bag. _

_Tears squeezed their way past her eyelashes as she let out a muffled sob. It was getting harder to stay conscious. _

_The laughing was starting to fade away, along with everything she held dear to her._

* * *

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. It was much brighter. The light stun her eyes as she squeezed them closed again. How much time had passed? The last thing she remembered was those bastards laughing. _Laughing at her _as they strolled away with everything she owned. Her teeth tightened as she fought back the urge to cry.

"Hahaha, that's a good one, my boy!" A male voice came just from behind her.

Her skin prickled when she all at once realized she was no long face down in the snow. In fact there were several blankets thrown over her body and she was stripped down to just her long johns. Had they changed their minds and come back for her? What if they had been touching her while she was unconscious? She felt horrified and embarrassed as she quietly pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

She waited a minute, but as the seconds ticked by, she knew they hadn't noticed she was awake. She got to her feet, with a lot of effort, and swayed from side to side. For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick, but she had the feeling there was nothing in her to throw up even if she willed it.

Looking over at where the voice came from, she stared at the backs of two men. One wore a hat and green jacket, the other in a black coat. She couldn't remember what most of them looked like, but she'd never forget that one fucker, their leader. Her eyes locked onto the one that was slightly closer to her. In that moment, she didn't care if they turned and shot her. She saw red.

With a growl, she rushed forward and jumped onto the man's back, successfully knocking him to the ground. The electric jolt in her side was ignored, as was the burning sensation that followed it. With one fist raised up, she went to swing it down, aimed at the back of his neck in hopes of fracturing his spine. Her fist was snatched up in mid air as a large arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her off of her victim. She began trashing around, trying to hit whoever had picked her up wherever that she could.

"Put me down you bealing caffler!" She screamed as the man she attacked got back on his feet. His eyes held no vengeance in them as he rose his hands up.

"Please, calm down, my dear. We're not going to hurt you." He spoke in a calm tone as he motioned for the other man to put her down. He did so but kept his hold on her shoulders.

"My name is Dr. King Schultz, and the man who is keeping you from going into a fit is my partner Django Freeman." He offered his hand towards Django but she didn't look. Her eyes were trained on him as she panted, out of breath already and starting to feel weak. After the pause and she didn't take the hint that it was her turn to introduce herself, Schultz cleared his throat.

"And, you are?"

"...Darcy." She answered simply, her jaw clenched.

"Just Darcy?" King asked, eyebrows raised and chin lowered. Was he really playfully teasing her?

"Just Darcy," she said and narrowed her eyes at him. Her knees suddenly buckled underneath her, the adrenaline rush she was experiencing just moments ago finally crashing. The pain in her ribs and the throbbing in her brain were suddenly much more noticeable It was a good thing Django was there holding her up or else she would have crumbled to the ground.

"Oh my- you're probably still weak." King frowned as he stared.

"Been sleepin' for two days with a fever." Django added from behind her.

"-and possibly a slight concussion."

The two of them led her back to the small pile of blankets near a fire. She was too light headed to fight with either of them but as she continued to stare at the doctor, she knew there was something familiar about him. It was on the tip of her tongue. But before the dots could be connected together in her head, she felt her eyes sag and she was out again.

Django tucked her back under the blankets as Schultz stood over them with a frown plastered to his face. He was worried.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm kind of flip flopping on whether or not to cut the accent. I can say she speaks in a Irish accent and not write it out or continue to write her in a Irish accent. It's not really difficult, I just want to make sure I'm not totally fucking it up or making people lost when she speaks. Ehhhh I don't know.

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Chapter 3

The late noon sky didn't nearly burn her eyes the second time Darcy woke up. Blinking away the blur that came from a mild migraine, she sat up and brushed her fingers over her forehead in the habit of running them through her dirty hair. To her confusion, her fingers ran across some kind of cloth that blocked their way. She touched at the fabric that was comfortably, if not a little tight, wrapped around her head.

"I wouldn't touch those just yet, my dear." The voice just about gave her a heart attack, making her body tense up. How could she had forgotten she wasn't alone? "The head trauma you received might still be tender."

And there he stood, Dr. King Schultz, looking as calm as if he were lounging in his favorite chair at home. As if he wasn't smiling down at the same person that attacked him only hours ago.

It had been only a few hours, right?

Her fingers trailed back over the makeshift bandages as Schultz simply watched her, his jacket slung over one arm.

"You're not worried I'll try to attack you again?" Darcy asked quietly, her eyes trained on nothing in particular for a moment before hesitantly turning up to look at him.

His eyebrows raised like he hadn't thought of that as a possibility, of course he had, but then he simply smiled. "Do you _plan_ on attacking me again?"

She was quiet for a long moment. He clearly wasn't apart of the gang that jumped her. She would have defiantly remembered that odd accent and those fancy out-of-place clothes. He didn't look like the kind of person that would be camping out in the wilderness, more like he should be sitting behind a large desk in a fancy office. She took a second to glance at his perfect teeth. His smile was almost inhumanly kind and honest. Something in the back of her mind was irritating her. She had remembered something about about this man before she passed out, it was on the tip of her tongue. But a wave of nausea stopped her thought process in its tracks.

She winced slightly before mumbling her reply. "Not unless you give me a reason to."

They stared at each other for what felt like a unreasonably long time before his smile brightened. "Good enough for me," he said and gave a apathetic shrug, thoroughly throwing her off. "Now then, I would imagine you are simply starving."

As she watched him walk by, a small spark of resentment hit her. He wasn't threatened by her. At all, it seemed. He allowed her to just sleep off her injuries unattended as if she was a trusted friend and not a stra-

And like a slap to the face, she remembered. She remembered why his odd voice was familiar, and why his smile seemed so honest. Her eyes widened to an almost comical size as she stared at his back. He was still talking as he dug around in a bag but she couldn't hear a word he was saying.

* * *

_"Well, my dear, maybe your heart is trying to tell you something." He shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the confused look in her eyes as he stared up at the stars above them. She didn't look away from him, desperate for him to explain himself. The porch creaked as she shifted, his words sinking in but not quite connecting. _

_Confusion quickly dissolved into annoyance as she shifted again, unintentionally scooting a little closer to the older man beside her. "What are you on about?" _

_He chuckled, somehow finding humor in the situation. "What I mean is, if you really don't want to be 'trapped' here, perhaps you should leave? You don't have to marry if you truly don't want to."_

_Darcy's frown deepened as one of her eyebrows raised at him. "You don't pay too much attention to how this country works do you? I can't really just say 'never mind, you bad bastard, I don't wanna get married.' I'll end up back in a field." She flailed her hands dramatically and gave a loud huff once finished. She sulked again, leaning her elbows against her knees and shook her head. "This is the better of two the evils."_

_King nodded slowly as he listened, that smile full of perfect teeth shrinking away. He knew well that women weren't treated well, certainly not Irish or Black women. What happened with Fontaine was rare, but he believed that if she didn't want to marry the man, then she shouldn't have to. "It is your choice, Fräulein." _

_"You're spewin' a whole lot of malarkey," she half-heartedly barked back, her accent thickening with her bitter mood._

_She sent him a pointed stare but he continued, his eyes widening a little as a slightly playful smirk pulled at his lips. "There are no chains on your doors. Why, who's to say you are unable to slip out in the middle of the night and not return? I think it would be several hours before anyone noticed you were even gone. But, as you say, it is 'malarkey'." _

_She stared at him, hard, trying to figure out if he was pulling her leg or not. Was he serious? Did he think it was that easy to just leave?...Was it that easy? _

_"You're real cheeky, you know that?" It was hard to hide the smile that reached her eyes._

_He chuckled, looking back at her with the most proud look in his eye. "Oh, you have no idea." _

* * *

"-Wouldn't you agree?"

Schultz stood in front of her, a can of beans with a spoon hanging out was held out to her. He stared at her expectantly as if waiting for some kind of response. When she stared at the can, and then up at him with a very blank stare, his smile dropped.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She cleared her throat and quickly took the can, muttering out a quick "I am," before shoveling the spoon into her mouth.

The doctor didn't seem all that sure as he opened his mouth to ask again, but the sound of heavy boots crunching against snow caught his attention. They both turned to see Django approaching with a thick stick slung over his shoulder, several rabbits animals hung from it.

"Ah, good work Django! Seems we will be eating well tonight." He gave his partner a congratulatory pat on the shoulder as the taller man went over to the fire, across from Darcy. "Care to join us, Just Darcy?" Schultz grinned.

She shot him a pointed look but slowly stood up without a word, not fully against getting a full meal though she rather would have hunted for herself. She gathered up one of the blankets and wrapped herself in it as she got closer to the fire.

"That reminds me. Darcy, how is your wounds?" Schultz took his spot between the two of them and held his hands up to the fire to warm them.

"Just dandy," The redhead mumbled back, the sarcastic tone not lost to any of them.

It was Schultz's turn to give her a look and she stared right back. "Really." He pushed, not at all sounding convinced. "Because when you so rudely attacked me yesterday, I had to redo your stitches after you fell unconscious."

Neither of them noticed the way Django's eyebrow raised, staring between them questionably.

"That was yesterday?" She breathed, eyebrows raised in surprise as her hand ghosted over her side. A certain spot felt kind of hard and crusted.

"Indeed. And if the bandages are dirty, I would rather change them before the wounds get infected."

Her face hardened as she stared back up at him. "I can do it on me own," she stated flatly as her hand appeared out from under the blanket and she held it out to him.

Schultz gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. "You are behaving childishly. I know what I am doing. Trust me, when you are in my kind of profession you get very good at tending to wounds."

"Aye, right. Because being a dentist is real dangerous." She spat back, not noticing the way Django narrowed his eyes at her from across the fire. His knife stopped in mid slice momentarily.

Schultz gave a second sigh, his patience wearing thin with her attitude. "Fine, alright." He raised his hands in defeat and pulled out a roll of bandages, handing it over to her.

She nodded and stood up, moving away from the fire and behind some rocks where their view of her was obstructed. She began rolling her long johns down over her filthy brassiere to see the blood stained bandages around her lower ribs. Her nose scrunched up in disgust as she started to peel back the old bandages, the last layer sticking slightly and forced a wince from her. The stitches themselves were done very neatly. Two over the entrance wound and three over the exit wound. The skin around the stitches were red and puffy, and sensitive to the touch. She started to gently re-wrap them with the new bandages before pulling her long johns back on. Satisfied, she walked back towards the fire where the two men remained sitting. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her clothes hanging over a stick. Probably left there from when they had to peel them off her freezing wet body. They looked stiff, no doubt the cold made them more like boards. When she got close enough to the fire, King and Django stopped whispering to look up at her.

"I have been meaning to ask you, Fräulein, why do you wear men's clothing?" Schultz smiled, attempting to redirect her curiosity away from whatever they could have been talking about.

"Easier to get work. And I get around without some fella trying to give me trouble. You'd be surprised how nobody notices you when you're fun bags aren't hanging out." Darcy shrugged, grabbing up the can of beans she had forgotten about. She noticed Django and Schultz exchange looks but didn't bother to comment on it.

"So you pretend to be a man?" Django spoke up for the first time, looking genuinely surprised. He hadn't ever met a cross-dresser before.

"Bang on," she winked, and peeked over the fire to see how far along the meat was coming. "That's looking good there, it is." Django's attention went back down to the rabbit bits that were speared on a stick. The meat was starting to darken to a good looking color. He nodded in agreement and held it out to her. With a real smile, she accepted the meat and bit into it before pulling back, fanning her mouth.

"That's quite clever of you." King said, also accepting his bits of meat and putting on his plate to soak up some of the bean juice. The sound of her giving a humored snort made him smile.

"Aww, naw. Met a aul doll who had been doing it for years. She picked me up and offered to give me a bed to sleep in. For sure thought she was trying to get me to roll in the hay with her. Gobsmacked me when I accidentally walk in on her in the bog and find shes got a fanny!" She chuckled, shaking her head. "That being said, she gave me some clothes and sent me on me way the next morning. Had the right idea, she did."

Django looked over at Schultz with the most perplexed look to see Schultz was also laughing, but the ex-slave had a feeling he was laughing more to be polite rather than he actually understood a damn word that came out of the girl's mouth. Feeling somewhat lost to the joke, Django decided to just bite into his meal instead of question it.

The smile on Darcy's face slowly faded as the humor left her. She had to wonder when the last time she actually laughed was. She couldn't remember.

There was a pleasant silence for a while before Django spoke again. "So, what happened to you?"

Darcy looked back up, seemingly confused for a minute before she realized what he was asking. She gave a heavy sign, not sure if it was good idea to tell them. She glanced between the two men who were now both staring at her. With some hesitation, she recollected the events from a couple of days ago. Starting with how she had been trying to get work for a couple of days in one town only to get rejected because she was Irish. Except for the one offer to become a prostitute. Supposedly, some gang had taken notice that she was a mouthy, free walking Irish kid with a good looking horse. She had to stop at the thought of poor Liam. God only knew how he was being treated...or if he was sold. The chances of getting back her horse was extremely thin. Refusing to let herself cry, she cleared her throat and continued, detailing how they had followed her out of town and ambushed her when she tried to run. A very grim look came over Schultz face when she said the leader had made her strip out of her hat and boots, and her shirt and trousers were next.

He stopped her there, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, to which she jerked away from. She sent him a accusing stare as he cleared his throat.

"They didn't attempt to violate you, did they?" He asked in a almost stern voice, the look of concern in his eyes hurt her for some reason.

She looked away from him, scoffing bitterly. "They didn't. Says I probably carried diseases and left me there."

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Schultz frowned, "But I can assure you that if you can identify these men, we can get you back your belongings."

As if she were literally burned by his offer, she suddenly straightened, staring hard at him. "No you're not. I'm gonna get me things back myself. I let that thieving dog take it from me like- like some kind of damn eejit an now those gobshites have it. I don't need your help fixing me own mistakes."

Schultz was taken back for a moment, blinking dumbstruck at her before speaking again. "But you must realize that you have better chances if it were the three of us. You can't possibly think you can take out a whole group of men on your own. Are you even handy with a rifle?"

Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked away from him, looking like she was caught in the act. "I don't-...but I don't need a gun. All's I need is a good knife and me fits, I do." She was being stubborn and she knew it but she was nearly foaming at the mouth to get revenge on her own. When did she ever need help with anything?

_When she was almost forced into a marriage that she wanted nothing to do with._

That was different.

"You're very sure of yourself." Schultz sighed, and she stayed quiet, not denying it. "Well, there is a deceased man over there on that horse," he pointed to a smaller horse that stood with two others. "We are going to town tomorrow to collect his bounty. Seeing as you have nothing but the shirt on your back, you can have his boots and whatever else is to your liking. And if you would like, the very least we could do is assist you to town where we can go our separate ways."

Django stared at Schultz with what seemed like shock. It didn't seem like the doctor to just let this woman go on her own to get killed on a doomed mission of revenge. He clinched his jaw, looking back over at Darcy who seemed to be having an internal battle with herself.

No more was spoken on the subject as several hours went by. They sat around the fire mostly in silence or listening to Schultz tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had Darcy's attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures and the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...this.

After a point, they decided it was enough for one night. Schultz and Django stood up, where Darcy stayed sitting. Django was about to walk to his mat when he stopped and looked back at her. "You gonna' go to sleep?"

"Don't have a place _to_ sleep, Fella." She shrugged, staring sleepily into the dying fire.

He stood there a minute before looking back over to Schultz who had also stopped. Django could see Schultz was about to make another offer, but he spoke up before the doctor could.

"Take mine."

Schultz and Darcy both looked at him at the same time. She shook her head. "I couldn't do that."

Django smiled, "I've slept plenty nights on the ground. One more won't hurt me none. Sides, I ain't the one that's been shot at." He grabbed a blanket for himself before thumbing over to his mat. "Get some sleep."

Darcy stayed seated for a moment before giving up and slowly getting back to her feet. The burning in her side had calmed down to a dull ache that could be ignored, which she planned to do. She thanked Django and crawled under the blanket.

She wanted to fall asleep but as much as she tried, she couldn't. She chalked it up to being unconscious for several days. After what felt like a couple hours, the light snoring sounds coming from Django told her that they were both in a deep sleep.

She gave it a little more time before pushing away the blanket and made her way to her clothes. It took her some effort to get them on, seeing as they were as stiff as the corpse she was about to turn her attention on. Once fully clothed, she approached the dead man slung across the horse's back. Digging through his pockets earned her a fairly large knife. She attached it to her belt before yanking the boots off of him and sizing them up to her own feet. They were a little too big, but that just meant she'd have to wear a extra pair of socks.

The sky was starting to turn an orange-ish pink color, telling her she had to get going. Silently, she thanked the two before packing up the few things she had and vanished from the camp's sight.

Schultz rolled onto his back, staring up at the slowly brightening sky. Why did she insist on being so stubborn? Was it really that hard to accept their help? He glanced over in the direction where she walked off. He knew he was allowing her to sign her own death certificate by letting her go, but what could he do? That wall she put up around everyone was going to get her killed. He sighed as he closed his eye for a minute.

Foolish stubborn girl.

* * *

_ Alistair Fontaine was known for being a tall and handsome man, and he was very full of himself. He was raised rich and spoiled, believing he could have whatever he wanted just by snapping his fingers. So when King stepped into his house, and found this fiancee he had been talking nonstop about was in fact a young looking Irish girl, he was fairly surprised. Out of all the women in town, he wanted to marry a Irish slave. He had heard the whispers about it when he came into town, but it seemed too odd to be true. Not many men would marry one of their slaves, especially a rich and well liked man like Fontaine. _

_She had smiled politely at him, but he could see how forced it was, and it looked more like a grimace to him. _

_"Isn't she just a doll? I am simply in love with her hair. You don't see real red locks like this very often, my boy!" Fontaine had boasted, even taking a few of her curls in his hand and fondly sniffing it. She glanced at her to-be husband out of the corner of her eye but didn't say anything. She looked like she was holding her tongue. _

_"Indeed..." King nodded slowly, not sure of what to make of all of it. He forced on a smile himself, "When is the big day?" _

_"In just a few days! That's why I asked for you. I can't be looking a dreadful sight on my wedding day. Don't you agree, my sweet?" He hooked his arm with her's, her pale arm dotted in freckles nearly blended in with his white suit jacket. _

_"Aye." She agreed simply, looking away into the corner of the room at nothing in particular. _

_The flash of despise only lasted a second or two but it was there long enough for Schultz to see. Even in the beautiful green dress, the big house, being on the arm of a wealthy man, she looked like she was a slave. She looked trapped. _


End file.
